


By His Father's Hand

by Luck_Kazajian



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Anger, Eternal Spear/Hades Aspect, Father-Son Relationship, Fire & Snow, Maybe Hades Does Care Just a Little Bit, Pain, Pride, Regret, Stubborness, Technically major character death, Wounds, but is it really death when you're a god?, fight to the death, hades pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24376516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luck_Kazajian/pseuds/Luck_Kazajian
Summary: Zagreus is at it again. And Hades is there to stop him, just like all the times before. They clash in the snowy graveyard as usual. But this time, something is different. Hades realizes some things about himself that he'd rather not acknowledge and Zagreus finds a new purpose.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 133





	By His Father's Hand

**Author's Note:**

> So, this piece has been a long time in the works, ever since the update that brought us the fight with Hades. (FYI, spoilers, sorta, for anything since the Big Bad update). I still haven't beat Hades. I've come sooo close. And I still keep dragging my bloody self back up there to fight him. And that gave me some ideas for the following oneshot. I also kind of like to think that Hades maybe, just maybe, had a hand in giving Zagreus the Hades' Aspect of the Eternal Spear. So, here we go...

“Nice night, no?” 

Hades heard the footsteps behind him, fire on snow, the hot sizzle and the cool hiss of conflicting elements attempting to inhabit the same space. Like himself and Zagreus. Hades knew what he would see before he turned around. 

Zagreus looked better this time, admittedly. Hades felt something stir in his chest that was almost pride. 

The Prince of the Underworld appeared through the softly falling snow, walking under his own power. Not limping on his sword, not dragging himself through bloody trails. He carried Coronacht in his right hand and though he was bloodied and disheveled, it was nothing that would send him back to Hell. Yet. 

“Zagreus,” Hades said. 

Zagreus looked up slow. The motion was calculated, like everything the Prince did these days. Calculated to show Hades his disrespect, calculated to measure his own exhaustion, calculated to give Hades time to think. Time Hades didn’t want. Time enough to see the anger and sadness reflected in Zagreus’ mis-matched eyes. The red that was so like his own -- fire and hatred, burning hot and sharp. And the green so like...her. Cool and alive and resigned. 

Resigned to war. 

Resigned to death. 

A god shouldn’t taste death like this. A boy should not fight his father like this. Hades stared down at Zagreus sternly. He didn’t enjoy their fights. It was wearisome, bloodying Zagreus and sending him back to Hell time and time again. Hades told himself he only fought because he had to. Because he had to keep Order. Because he was King. Because the Underworld couldn’t mix with the surface like this. It was dangerous. It was...disorderly. It brought only pain and longing for something that the Chthonic gods could never have. He told himself he was doing this to spare Zagreus the pain.

“Father.” 

Zagreus’ voice pulled him from his thoughts. There was almost a question there. The barest hint of hope. 

“You disobeyed again, I see.” 

Zagreus’ shoulders fell, although he made an effort to hide it, shifting his weight, bringing the bow up to rest against his shoulder. 

“And you left your desk again, I see. Shouldn’t you be taking care of the Underworld, Father?” 

“If you weren’t constantly running around destroying everything in your path, I might be able to.” 

“I’m not running.” 

“Then what would you call it?” 

“Most days?” Zagreus sighed. “Limping.” There was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, or maybe a grimace. It was hard to tell. Zagreus was getting harder and harder to read. Better and better at hiding his emotions. 

Or was it because Hades was getting worse at reading him? How long had it been since he’d last talked to Zagreus? Really talked, not the petty spats that cropped up daily. Not these acerbic stares and closed expressions. Not this dance of rebellion and hatred. Hades didn’t remember. And that bothered him. 

Surely it hadn’t been that long ago? 

Oh, but it had. It had been longer than Hades liked to admit, even for an immortal. 

But he couldn’t focus on that now. Now, he had to focus on Zagreus. On that rebellious boy with too much of his mother in him. 

“Then perhaps you should limp back to Hell, boy.” Hades drew himself up to his full height, his spear pointed, tip-down, toward Zagreus. “Stay where you belong and stop trying to rock the boat.” 

“Not today, Father. You know as well as I that I can't stay."

“Save yourself the pain, boy."

“Too late for that,” Zagreus laughed. “My life is pain. It’s as much a part of me as my mortal blood. I’ve gotten used to it.” He pulled Conoracht off his shoulder, holding the string between his fingers, ready to draw. Not a threat -- not yet. But a promise. A promise that he would fight. That he wouldn’t give up. “Besides, Father, if there’s nothing else I’ve learned from you it’s how to bite my tongue and shoulder the pain. I won’t give up, no matter what you throw at me. It’s not in my blood.” 

“You’re too much like--” Hades stopped himself, realizing he’d spoken the words aloud. 

“Like who, Father?” Zagreus asked. 

Hades scowled. Because he’d been about to say mother, but maybe he should really say father. 

“Like her? Like mother?” Zagreus guessed. “Why won’t you just tell me about her? Why all the secrecy? Why the lies?” 

“Because her story is not yours to know!” Hades roared. 

“It’s just as much mine as it is yours!” 

“There are some things in this life you’re not prepared for, Zagreus.” Hades eyes flashed fire. “Not even now. Not even with all the pain you put yourself through. Let her go. Come home.” 

“No.” 

Hades growled and raised his spear. 

“Then you know what I must do.” 

“I’m ready, Father.” 

Hades lunged.

* * *

The fight lasted longer this time. Hades had to admit, he was impressed. Zagreus was getting better with each attempt. Hades was breathing hard and Zagreus actually hit him once or twice. 

Deep down, in his heart of hearts, that scared Hades. Because he knew that one day Zagreus might be strong enough to break free of his hold. That day was a long way coming -- but it was coming. 

Still, no need to let Zagreus know. 

Hades activated his Helm of Darkness and disappeared right before Zagreus released a hail of arrows from Conoracht. Zagreus swore as his arrows sailed harmlessly through the air, hissing past the spot where Hades stood a moment before. 

“Show yourself!” Zagreus shouted. 

Hades paused to watch the Prince. 

Zagreus was bloodier than he had been when he’d stepped out of the Temple. He was favoring his right side where dark blood seeped across his tunic. Hades had dealt him a solid blow with his spear. Not enough to send him home immediately, but the boy was fading. His legs trembled where he stood in the snow, eyes roving the field, searching for Hades. He paused a moment longer than necessary, breath coming ragged. Zagreus was failing and he knew it. Hades could see it in the flash of his red eye, the grim determination haunting his features. 

And yet, he steadied himself and conjured another set of arrows on Conoracht's string. 

“Father.” He sounded tired. More tired than an immortal ought to be. “Please.” Conoracht fell as Zagreus gave in and let her slip. The string whistled and the volley of arrows slammed into the snow at his feet. Snow hissed and melted around the arrowheads as the glowing magenta arrows dissolved into air.

Zagreus spun in a wary circle, eyes flicking across every tombstone, every snow drift, every shadow and whisper and breath. 

“Just let me go.” 

_Just let me go._

Hades felt as if Zagreus’ arrows had pierced his heart instead. That was exactly what she said. All those years ago. The last time he saw her. 

_Just let me go._

But she never came back. And Zagreus...would he do the same? He was enamored with the surface -- no, obsessed. Hades had seen it in the boy since he was a child. He’d sit for hours, rapt, listening to the shades talk about their lives, to Achilles regale him with tales of war and love. He asked questions, incessant questions. 

_Father, what’s the surface like? How do you get there?_

Distracting him as a child had been easy. 

_Go play with Cerberus, son. His middle head is feeling left out._

But it didn’t work forever. Zagreus grew older, old enough to realize his father was hiding something, and he grew quiet. His questions stopped as he realized his father would never answer. His allegiance to the shades grew stronger. If Achilles wasn’t a damned good swordsman, Hades would have found a way to get him out of the house sooner. But by the time he considered it, it was too late. The damage had been done. Zagreus had that insatiable hunger, that desperate need to walk a world he didn’t belong in. 

Hades had tried to scare him. He’d let the Furies harrow Zagreus with tales of horrible mortals and a desolate overworld. He’d strictly forbidden the shades to speak of their former lives. He’d even lectured Thanatos and Hypnos on how they spoke to the prince, but nothing worked. 

And now this. 

Now Zagreus’ blood was on his hands. 

Hades felt it like fire where the crimson drops spattered his arms, his hands, his chest, his face.

A father shouldn’t have to kill his offspring to teach him a lesson. But what else could Hades do with an immortal boy? Death was still unpleasant for the gods. It still hurt. But it wasn’t the end. No, they came back. They always came back. Wasn’t Zagreus tired of it yet? 

“Coward!” Zagreus’ shout brought Hades back to the fight. “Why don’t you show yourself? Why don’t you fight like your brothers? At least when they’re angry with me they say it plain!” 

“How dare you!” Hades roared and lunged, reappearing with his spear extended right in front of Zagreus. Zagreus dashed backwards, the spear missing him by inches. Hades snarled. That dash was faster than it ought to have been. Hermes. Damn him.

There was a grim smile on Zagreus’ face now, his teeth flashing as white as the falling snow around them. 

“How dare you bring my brothers into this!” Hades shouted. “I told you never to mention them!” 

“You can’t deny them forever, Father!” Zagreus had Conoracht drawn and nocked before Hades’ finished his attack. Fully extended, Hades saw the deadly hail of arrows a second after they left the bow. He swore and activated his Helm again, disappearing right as the arrows crossed his path. 

Not soon enough. One arrow ripped the flesh of his upper arm as he disappeared. The rest sailed harmlessly through empty air as Hades used his invisibility to step away. 

Zagreus growled in frustration, another hail of arrows held to Conoract’s string. This time, they weren’t nocked, merely held there, glowing between his fingers. The boy was getting better. The weapons responded to him faster now. His skill was growing. Were he not trying to break out of the Underworld, Hades would be proud of how well the boy had mastered the gods’ weapons.

Hades circled Zagreus like a panther, looking for the best angle to attack. He couldn’t let Zagreus anger him like this. He had to remain calm and strike when the boy least expected it.

Except that this time, Zagreus didn’t follow his movement in the snow. He wasn’t looking for footprints or shadows or Hades’ breath in the cold, misty air. In fact, he wasn’t moving at all. Except for the latent glow of fire around the prince’s feet and his heavy breathing, Hades would almost mistake him for another graveyard statue. The boy was hurting, that much was clear. If the drops of blood hissing into the snow at his feet were any indication, he wouldn’t last much longer. 

Perhaps…

Perhaps Hades could appeal to his reason.

“Zagreus.”

Zagreus’ head snapped up, but he didn’t turn to face Hades’ voice. He didn’t draw his bow.

“You don’t have to do this.” 

Zagreus whirled to face Hades then, eyes flicking up to meet his, even though he couldn’t see him. Hades felt a splinter of fear crack his carefully crafted armor -- Zagreus had known where he was all along. There was no way the prince hadn’t known, not with the speed at which he met his father’s gaze. 

When Zagreus’ spoke, his voice was low, calm. He sounded so much like Thanatos...or like Hades when he was trying to control the red-hot rage that always simmered just below the surface. “No, _you_ don’t have to do this, Father. You know who you are. You know where you belong. There’s never been a doubt in your mind. But me?” Zagreus took a deep breath and grimaced. “I’ve never had that certainty. I...I want to know where I came from. I want to know who _I_ am.” 

“You are the Prince of Hades,” Hades said. 

“And what if that isn’t enough?”

Hades growled, the sound coming deep from his chest. An almost animal sound, angry and jealous. “You can’t change who you are just because you don’t like it,” he snarled. 

Zagreus drew himself up, letting his arrows fade to air once more. He stood tall and proud, despite the flow of blood from his side. “Is that what you tell yourself, Father? Is that what you say when you get tired of sitting at your gilded desk day in and day out? Is that what you say when you look up at Olympus and get jealous of Zeus and Poseidon?” 

“I told you not to mention their names!” Hades roared. “My brothers are nothing but fools, sitting in a gilded castle, toying with mortal playthings. I am not jealous.” 

“They’re not fools, Father. They’re gods. Just like us.” 

“No. They are not like us. They turned their backs long ago.” 

“Maybe it was _you_ who turned your back!” Zagreus accused. There were crimson puddles of sizzling bloody snow at his feet now. “Just like how you turned your back on your son.”

Hades raised his spear and didn’t say anything. 

“All I ever wanted was a Father who cared.” Zagreus took a few steps. They were unsteady, but he didn’t fall.

Hades circled him. 

“A Father who answered my questions.” 

Zagreus sounded less angry now and more resigned. More like that fool Orpheus who moped about the hall and didn’t sing. Hades paused. Were those...tears...on Zagreus’ face? Hades couldn’t quite tell in the uncertain moonlight, but there appeared to be silver trails sliding slowly down the prince’s cheeks. Hades shook himself. No, he would not let Zagreus manipulate him. He was only trying to get Hades to let his guard down, let him walk out of the graveyard. Hades scowled. He was the god of Hell, dammit, he was not going to let Zagreus leave like this. 

Zagreus looked back up to where Hades had been standing. “I’m not leaving because I hate you, Father. I’m leaving because I barely know you.” Zagreus turned then, so that he was facing his father once more -- damn, how did he know? Hades stayed still. Zagreus held Conoracht up so that Hades could clearly see it. 

“I’m not fighting anymore.” Zagreus brought the bow down and let it drop into the snow at his feet. Conoracht hissed into the snow, still hot from Zagreus’ touch. Zagreus held his right arm close to his body, stiff, unnatural. “If you don’t love me enough to know me as your son, then I’m going to find the Olympians who at least care about me enough to get me out of your hellish hall.” Zagreus turned away and walked toward the edge of the graveyard.

Hades lunged then, roaring his anger to the sky. The Helm dissipated and he materialized behind Zagreus, spear outstretched. 

At the same moment, Zagreus spun and stepped - not away from the spear as Hades expected - straight into the path of the spear. 

Hades both heard and felt the bone-jarring clash as his spear pierced Zagreus' chest, ripping flesh, tearing bone, sinew, and muscle. Zagreus screamed and brought his right arm up. He actually took another step forward, fighting the momentum of the spear. 

Hades’ eyes widened in surprise as Zagreus sank an arrow into Hades’ own chest. And not just any arrow, but a glowing magenta arrow wreathed in frost and lightning. Hades didn’t even know it was possible to summon arrows without the bow.

Father and son froze for what seemed like an eternity, even to two immortals. Zagreus was stretched out on Hades’ spear, the bloody red tip coming out his back, the shaft through his chest, arm outstretched, hand locked in a death grip on the shaft of the arrow in Hades’ chest. 

Hades grunted as the arrow hissed and crackled with deadly cold. 

“Demeter and Zeus,” he gasped. 

Zagreus nodded, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “It was,” he coughed, “worth a shot.” 

“You fool!” Hades felt ice surround his heart. But it wasn’t the Olympians’ electric ice. No, that hurt, but he would survive. It would slow him for some time, quench some of his flame. But he couldn’t be killed by even the combined power of thunder and winter. “You thought you’d kill me with the gods’ power?” 

Zagreus shook his head. Through the glaze of pain in his eyes, Hades could see nothing but immense sadness. “No, not kill you.” Blood spattered the haft of Hades’ spear. “I’d hoped…” he sucked in a raspy breath. His hand slipped from the arrow. It was a mortal wound, even for a god, but he fought it. “...it would persuade you...to let me go.” 

Zagreus’ knees gave out and he collapsed, dragging Hades’ spear down with him as he knelt in the snow. Hades let the haft slip from his fingers. He too sank to his knees in front of the boy. Zagreus canted forward, resting his hands on the ground on either side of the wooden shaft sticking out of his chest. 

He coughed again, more blood flecking the snow. 

“My son,” Hades whispered. He reached out a hesitant hand. 

Zagreus looked up, tears mingled with the blood on his face. “You called me...son.” His voice was barely a whisper. 

Hades cupped Zagreus’ face in one giant hand. He could feel Demeter’s ice spreading from his chest to his shoulder and down his left arm. The boy had gotten him good, but he barely felt the red-hot rage that normally accompanied the wounds Zagreus gave him. 

His son was dying in front of him. 

Hades had sent Zagreus back to Hell before, many times, but never as close and personal as this. Never so obviously by his hand. Most of the time, Zagreus had been near death when he reached the surface and Hades merely dealt the final blow. He’d never outright killed Zagreus so fatally.

But Zagreus...Zagreus was smiling through the tears. “You called me son.” His head dropped into Hades’ hand. 

Hades was stunned. A different kind of cold spread from the arrow in his chest and into his heart. Was this what he had come to? A war-monger who would only show his son affection when he was dying on the end of his own spear? A god who wouldn’t even speak to his own son unless he was afraid of losing him?

“Zagreus…” 

There was no answer. 

Zagreus was still and Hades realized he held more than just the weight of his son's head in his hand. The tears no longer fell, but froze where they lay on the prince’s face. Those mis-matched eyes were open, his mouth too, as if he’d been about to say something. 

And then Zagreus’ form began to fade, ghost-green flames licking at the edges of his body.

Hades felt a sudden fear grip his chest -- the fear that this time, he’d lost his son forever. No, Zagreus was immortal. He was a god. He was the son of Hades. But Hades still felt a piece of himself fade into oblivion with Zagreus’ body.

Hades knelt on the snow, his bloody spear lying like a live, glittering thing where his son stood only moments before. 

The tears fell like rain a moment later, sparkling in the snow, freezing into tiny, fragile crystals.

* * *

This time Zagreus materialized in the blood pool spread-eagled on his back. He’d never shown up like that before. So far, he’d always walked out of the pool. He was paler than normal, his fire extinguished by the blood. Exhausted, haggard, worn. Nothing like the vibrant prince everyone had come to adore in the House of Hades. The blood pool flowed around the prince dispassionately. It didn’t care about him any more than it cared about where it was going or who drowned in it.

Zagreus opened his eyes slowly, blinking the blood out of them as he stared up at the ceiling of his father’s house. 

_I could stay here, like this,_ Zagreus thought. _Just lie here, forever, another permanent feature of the house._

Zagreus laughed harshly, the sound too loud in his ears. No, Father would yell at him for contaminating the blood pool, or being lazy, or slacking on his hellish duties. He couldn’t even find rest in the yawning abyss of the Styx. 

Zagreus felt life seep back into his limbs, as if the blood pool itself were washing into him, oozing vigor back into his weary bones. Slowly, Zagreus reached up and felt his chest, half expecting to feel a gaping hole, but it was like every time before. He was whole again. 

Zagreus let his hand fall back in the pool with a splash. 

He should’ve been disgusted, covered in blood as he was, but it was just another thing he’d become accustomed to in his fight for the surface. Death, blood, pain -- they were his family now, although he supposed that had never changed. Thanatos, the Furies, training with Achilles. Zagreus was sure there was enough of his blood and memories in the hall to fill the Styx ten times over. Had any other god ever bled as much as him? 

Gods weren’t supposed to bleed. 

But then, he wasn’t a god like the rest of them, was he? Alecto pointed that out every chance she got. 

Zagreus bled red. Like a mortal. 

And damn it if he wasn’t going to find out why. Why did he feel so much more alive than anything else in this place? Why was his mother hidden from him? Why did the Olympians care about him at all? 

“Prince?” a voice interrupted his thoughts. A worried voice. 

Zagreus looked up to see Hypnos leaning over the pool, his parchment in one hand, eyes wider than Zagreus had ever seen them. In fact, he looked almost...awake. 

“Are you alright?” Hypnos asked. 

“Sure, Hypnos. I’m just resting. The Styx is such a nice place for a nap, you know. You should try it sometime.” 

Hypnos looked at Zagreus like he didn’t believe him. 

Good, Zagreus didn’t believe himself either. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Hypnos asked hesitantly. 

Zagreus sighed and hauled himself out of the pool. He was stiff and tired and bloody. “I’m fine, Hypnos,” he said, waving away the hand Hypnos offered. He drew himself up to his full height. It took him longer to find his balance than he thought it should. There was an ache in his chest, right where his father’s spear struck -- an ache like something wasn’t totally healed this time. He took a deep breath. 

“Zagreus, maybe --” Hypnos began. 

“Yes?” Zagreus prompted when Hypnos didn’t finish. 

“I mean, all I’m trying to say is…” 

Zagreus stood patiently and waited on Hypnos. He was pretty sure he knew what he was going to say. 

“Maybe you should stop trying to break out of Hell.” The words left Hypnos’ mouth all in a rush, as if he weren’t quite sure he should be saying them to the Prince of the Underworld. “At least, for now,” Hypnos amended. “Maybe you should...oh, Styx, you know what I’m trying to say. Don’t you?” 

Zagreus sighed. “Unfortunately, I do, Hypnos.” 

“Oh good.” Hypnos looked relieved. “Wait, what’s unfortunate about that?” 

“You know I can’t stop.” Zagreus put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Especially not now. I was so close this time. I was on the surface.” Zagreus could feel the heat return to his body as he spoke, the fire returning to warm him. 

“You got all the way to the surface?” Hypnos’ eyes were wide again. 

Zagreus nodded. 

“Then what sent you back here?” Hypnos asked. 

“Check your list.” 

Hypnos fumbled the parchment for a moment, then stared down at the list. “Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Again?” 

“Again.” 

“I’m sorry, Prince.” 

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. It was mine. I wasn’t fast enough.” 

Zagreus gave Hypnos a grim smile and turned to walk away.

“Zag--”

Zagreus turned back. Hypnos looked kind of helpless standing there, wringing his quill in one hand. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. “Just--” he finally stammered. “Just be careful out there, ok?” 

“Sure, Hypnos,” Zagreus agreed. 

But Hypnos wasn’t finished. “Your Father might not care about you, but there are some of us here who do, and it’s hard watching you drag yourself out of that pool bloody and wretched and exhausted time and time again. I know why you want to get out, I really do. But, Zag, no one will think any less of you if you…” Hypnos faltered. “You know, if you take a break.” 

Zagreus gave Hypnos a tired smile. “Thank you, Hypnos.” 

Hypnos blushed and waved it away. 

“No, really. Thanks. It’s nice to hear that someone cares.”

“Hey, don’t just thank me. Thank Nyx and Achilles and Than, too.” 

“I do. I will. And maybe...maybe there’s something to be said about a little sleep now and then.” 

“I know it always helps me, Prince!” Hypnos grinned. 

Zagreus smiled and walked away. Toward that big, broad desk at the end of the hall. Toward the harsh words and stern stares he knew he’d get from his father.

But -- the desk was empty. 

Hades wasn’t there. 

That, in and of itself, wasn’t unusual. The Lord of the Underworld was often gone on one errand or another, especially after one of Zagreus’ escape attempts. But somehow, Zagreus thought that maybe after his father’s words in the graveyard he’d be here this time. 

Maybe Zagreus had hurt him more than he thought? 

No, his father was a god. He was Hades. He was eternal. A mere arrowhead couldn’t kill Hades. 

Zagreus let his fiery footsteps take him past his father’s throne and on to his room. He felt emptier than before. Like some part of him was missing. A part that thought maybe, just maybe, this time would be different. That maybe he’d welcome Zagreus home. That maybe his stare wouldn’t be quite so stern. 

Oh, who was he fooling? 

There would be no welcome home for him. There would be no smile, no warmth, no grace. Zagreus sighed as he walked into his room. He walked up to the bed, staring at it for a while. He was bone-tired, despite his insistence otherwise. Gods weren’t supposed to be tired, were they? Maybe Hypnos was right. Maybe he should...just sleep. 

Zagreus put a hand on the bed. 

No. 

He stiffened, a new resolve burning in his chest. 

He couldn’t sleep. 

Not when he’d been so close. 

Sleep was for the weak. 

Sleep was for the dead. 

Zagreus was neither. He was immortal. Eternal. Which meant he had eternity to get out of Hell. Better put that to good use then. Zagreus straightened up and walked outside to the weapons chamber. 

Skelly stood in the middle of the chamber as usual. 

“Hey there, boyo,” he greeted Zagreus. “You musta really done something special out there last time.” 

“What?” Zagreus tilted his head. 

“You heard me. You musta really rattled some skulls or something. Lord Hades himself dropped by after your last run.” 

“My father?” 

“You deaf or something, boyo? He didn’t say anything to me, just walked over there and messed with your weapons. You see the Eternal Spear? It’s been glowing since he left and it’s starting to give me the creeps.” 

Zagreus looked over at the spear. It was indeed glowing a bright, fiery red with undertones of orange and yellow.

“No way…” Zagreus breathed as he walked up to the spear. Why would his father come down here? He rarely ever visited Zagreus’ rooms - in fact, Zagreus couldn’t remember the last time he did. So had he come to meddle with Zagreus’ plans? He glanced around at his other weapons, but except for the spear, they all seemed unchanged. 

Zagreus reached out for the spear. Skelly said something behind him, but the prince wasn’t paying attention to the skeleton. The spear felt hot, even to him, the fire singeing his fingertips before he touched it. There was only one god with fire hot enough to burn the Prince of the Underworld. 

“So it really was you,” Zagreus whispered. The spear blazed brighter. Zagreus grasped it, ignoring the sting of the fire in his palm. He hefted the weapon off its pedestal and the spear glowed even brighter, transforming before his eyes until it took the shape of a spear Zagreus had heard of, but never seen. 

The spear his father wielded against the Titans. 

Zagreus turned around holding the spear and for a moment, it wasn’t the prince who stood facing Skelly, but the Lord of the Underworld himself. Skelly’s eyes widened, or rather, glowed brighter. The image faded and Zagreus was himself again, but there was something stronger about him. Something more purposeful. Something brighter and hotter and fiercer. 

Zagreus suddenly rushed Skelly, slamming the spear into the ground. Fire licked the haft of the spear, scorching even the stone floor of the weapons room. Skelly disappeared in a cloud of ash. 

Zagreus stood up as his training companion rematerialized. Perhaps there _had_ been something to those words back in the graveyard. Maybe there was a small part of his father -- a very small part -- that wanted to give Zagreus an edge. 

_My son._

Only the son of Hades could wield Hades’ aspect of the Eternal Spear. 

Zagreus hefted the spear and walked toward the gate leading into Tartarus. Perhaps he’d meet his end out there again and find himself in the blood pool once more. Or perhaps this was the day he finally defeated his father in single combat. But he knew, without a doubt, that whatever happened, he was the son of Hades. And he would see this through to the end. 

“Thank you, Father.”


End file.
